


Corvus corax

by astronomicalhit



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I mean mild violence I guess Thorin is a Witcher, I'll add more tags as I characters appear!, M/M, Most of the Dwarves are Witchers apart from a few, Sorcerer!Bilbo, Witcher AU, witcher!thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-08 04:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomicalhit/pseuds/astronomicalhit
Summary: Witcher AU:"The exiled prince had never failed a contract, but there was a layer of dread he was unused to lingering around; not unlike a heavy cloak being draped over him. He gritted his teeth and strode on somewhat confidently through the darkness, listening to Dwalin’s deep humming and hoped the winding lanes of the Shire wouldn't give his friend ammunition to send back to Dis."Thorin Oakenshield is a Witcher of the Raven School. A Dwarf exiled from his homeland, or rather what was left of it. When a contract reaches him about a beast terrorising The Shire, Thorin takes it along with fellow Witcher and friend Dwalin - but what he finds there was not something his training could have ever trained him for.A sorcerer of Yavanna, by the name of Bilbo Baggins.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> I had this idea in my mind for a few weeks after having a dream of Richard Armitage being cast in the new Witcher series on Netflix (if only am i right?)
> 
> None of these characters are mine and I don't claim to be an expert in the LOTR/Hobbit or Witcher Universe. As Bilbo would say "It is just a bit of fun!"
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

…

The wind had turned harsh. 

The slow change of summer to autumn had been somewhat pleasant, but now as the weeks had drawn darker the world had begun to frost. This time of year was quiet, as if Eru himself was holding his breath in anticipation. The harvest season had ended and as the animals began to seek warmer climates the peoples of Middle Earth began to retreat into their warm houses; huddling close as the beasts of the night make their way out of the shadows.

A hooded figure was huddled close to a fire at the edge of the forest. The trees tall and broad, standing strong in the shadow of the Blue Mountains. As the frost seeped into his bones the only sounds to be heard in the wilds were the crackle of embers eating away at the small amount of dried wood he had managed to harvest and the slow and steady sound of a whetstone against a sword. There were various keepsakes strewn about the fire; flasks of different colours, an oil lantern with a peculiar green tinge and a steel sword placed within its scabbard - leaning against a large cedar tree that had grown a few feet forward from the rest of the treeline. Next to it, numerous pieces of wood of different sizes were weaved into a circle. Holly and mistletoe wrapped around the makeshift wreath. The gentle noise of the blade sharpening halted as the figure lifted its head slightly and looked over to the fire, eyes shining brightly as they reflected the dying flames. He tilted his head, taking a few moments to give his attention to his surroundings. The whetstone was gently placed on the icy ground next to his perch under the pines, and a small vial took its place in his large calloused hands. The dilute green liquid giving off an eerie glow not unlike the lamp that sat a few feet away from him. His other hand gripped the hilt of a large sword, the inscriptions that ran up the blade reflecting the starlight that poured down from above.

He waited. The absence of sound causing his sword hand to tighten. 

The sound of a branch cracking only a few feet behind him had him rush to his feet, turning and stepping forward into a defensive stance, vial lifted to his lips - only for him to relax, allowing the vial to be forgotten and his sword to lower in trust.

"You should know better than to try and sneak up on me. All those extra cakes you had my sister make you have made you heavier"

The intruder guffawed loudly, unlike his companion he did not feel the need to don his hood and as he approached the makeshift camp the tattoos that marked his shaved head glowed an unusual blue in the firelight.

"I’ve been watching you for at least ten minutes. Did you hear that O’ great Thorin Oakenshield?" 

He slapped Thorin on the shoulder, knocking the hood from its grip around his hair. Silver streaks among the dark braids lit up under the starlight and revealed a strong brow and crooked nose. Thorin gave him an unimpressed look before picking up the wreath from the icy ground, thrusting it into his new companion’s chest and clearly choosing to ignore his question as he returned to his perch and once more picked up the Whetstone to sharpen his weapon. 

"That Werewolf can't be more than a few day’s ride from the next village. The wargs are unusually active tonight, there's something big in that forest and it's agitating them. It would be wise, Dwalin, if we stuck together until the job is done."

Dwalin nodded as he sat opposite the other, scratching at his beard before grabbing a hunk of dried meat from his pocket and crunching down on it. He chewed for a few seconds before his eyes were drawn to the makeshift wreath near him. He barked out a laugh, mouth full of food and lifted it up in front of his face for inspection.

"My brother would have a fit if he saw how shit your braids were, but it'll do the job .. hopefully" he teased. 

Thorin bristled, his blue eyes hardening at the jest. "My braids are fine, it's the wood that's shit. The only Birch tree I could find was dead and had been for months. Be grateful I found any at all." 

Dwalin let out another hearty laugh, gently placing the wreath down next to him before picking some mistletoe berries off of it and throwing them in his mouth. He chewed and spat back into his hand, making Thorin’s nose wrinkle up at the sight, before smearing the mush onto his silver battle-axe. 

"You know I could have made an oil if you gave me an hour?"

"No need. This way is quicker, less potent sure... but if you've heard Wargs I'd rather not rest here for longer than needed. Where's this village you spoke of?"

"Maybe twenty miles? Perhaps a little less. That is if it hasn't moved in the last five years."

Dwalin hummed before standing and stomping a great iron boot upon the dwindling flames. Thorin sighed, it was a few hours from dawn but he had hoped to not travel in the dark. They both knew his sense of direction wasn’t the best, even with his training. He rose and began to collect his things as the last of the fire’s embers dwindled and smoke began to crawl up his nostrils, the sour stench of burning making him shiver involuntarily. Once packed, both dwarves then lifted identical vials of dilute green liquid to their lips and drank the lot, tossing the empty glass vials on the frosted dew under their feet and turned south. 

The exiled prince, had never failed a contract. The story of a small village in the Shire being terrorised by a werewolf was not something to be taken lightly, seeing as werewolves often sought the deep forests of the world and not in farmlands containing small defenceless Shire folk. The story had travelled upwind to Ered Luin where he was visiting his sister and her sons, his wards, and after hearing that three hobbits had already fallen victim to the beast he had to cut his visit short. 

The exiled prince had never failed a contract, but there was a layer of dread he was unused to lingering around; not unlike a heavy cloak being draped over him. He gritted his teeth and strode on somewhat confidently through the darkness, listening to Dwalin’s deep humming and hoped the winding lanes of the Shire wouldn't give his friend ammunition to send back to Dis.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONSISTENT CHAPTER LENGTHS? WHO IS SHE?
> 
> I posted this at midnight completely unbetad because i was too excited to wait an extra day. I promised I would get out chapters weekly and I intend to keep that promise! i have an idea for where I want the story to go and all your comments gave me such motivation! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last one! <3 Astro

A rather large Raven was perched on the ledge outside of Bilbo Baggins' kitchen window. It sat, contented, in the autumnal afternoon. Bilbo watched as its feathers ruffled, catching the sun's rays and turning the midnight black to blue and purple plumes to Bilbo's utter delight. 

He smiled, resting his head in his hands as he watched the large rook. It moved to face the window where it began to knock ever so lightly on the tempered glass. Bilbo chuckled. Did it want to come inside? Well he was sure he had some extra nuts and fruit from his last visit to the market around here somewhere-

"Master Baggins?"

Bilbo shot upright, coughing slightly and smoothing down his jerkin as he redirected his gaze to the rather sheepish looking hobbit who sat across the table from him, who he had quite forgotten the presence of. He shot a quick glance back at his window to check for the presence of the Raven, but it was not there. Furrowing his brow, he turned his attention back to his visitor.

“Yes, yes. You were here about Ermentrude wasn’t that right? What’s wrong with the poor beast this time?”

“Well, uhh, you see um... M-Master Baggins-”

“You’re Walric’s boy aren’t you lad?” He asked as he got up from the table, making his way over to the kettle that was currently on its way to boiling over the hearth. “Speak up I haven’t got all day, I’ve got a pie in the oven that I‘d rather not let burn.”

“Aye, well you see .. She’s stopped giving milk again Mast-”

“Again? Elves and Dragons, this is the third time this month! What on earth-”

Otto sat awkwardly on his stool as he watched Master Baggins stop in his tracks. The hobbit went still and looked like he had lost a little colour in his face, the kettle still whistling slightly as it was placed on the dining room table. Otto frowned. He thought this whole business with his father’s recent bad luck was just the sorcerer scamming his father into giving him more work, but once he met the Hobbit he was quite certain that there was something else going on, and his peculiar behaviour confirmed it for him.

“Master Baggins? This doesn’t have anything to do with them Witchers? Petunia Proudfoot said she saw them in Hobbiton this morning. Everyone says they bring bad tidings wherever they go, and Proudfoot's word is not often wrong!"

He watched the face of the sorcerer for any indication that that may be the truth but found only a warm smile directed at him as Bilbo approached the young hobbit. He clasped a hand on Otto’s shoulder and shook his head. 

“Not at all my boy, I think perhaps some of my herbs weren’t agreeable to Yavanna.” He lifted the boy from his seat and proceeded to frog march him to the front door. “Now you go on and tell your father I’ll be around this afternoon after dinner, of course, to fix her right up and tell him I’ll be out of his hair before it’s supper.” 

Otto stood bewildered on the other side of the large green door before he even realised what was happening, Bilbo giving him a big smile. “Good morning to you!” The sorcerer bowed, and the front door was slammed shut in Otto’s face. 

Otto Bolger was a very respectable hobbit despite only being the young age of 34. Working on his father’s farm with his older brothers, they had their problems sure; moreso in recent years what with a few failed harvests and losing some animals - but nothing Otto would place in the realm of unusual. In the realm of  _ magical _ . Their last dairy cow Ermentrude had been going through outbreaks of drought these past few months, she would simply dry up even though her udders would feel to be full of milk. His father has been going back and forth to Master Baggins once he learned that Bilbo had returned from his journeys to Rivendell and the town had slowly stopped gossiping about him as he helped with various injuries, crop failures and even occasionally helping some hobbit lasses bring their bairns into the world. 

He frowned to himself. He did not doubt the sorcerer’s abilities, Yavanna no, but the thoughts of something unpleasant happening wouldn’t leave his thoughts. Otto grumbled and made his way back to his father’s farm to tell him of the Sorcerer’s visit.

…

Bilbo watched from his dining room window as Otto Bolger made his way from Bag End with a perturbed look on his face. He waited a few minutes to make sure no one else had decided to disturb him with tales of rotten potatoes or badly behaving goats and made his move. He dashed to the study, grabbed his ‘No Admittance’ sign and raced to the gate, hanging it there and running back inside before anyone else could grab him for help on why their blasted carrots weren’t growing the same as last season.

Bilbo almost tripped up his garden steps in his haste to make it back inside his home. As he corrected himself and tried not to fall face first in the gravel, he heard a sudden guffaw from above and looked up to find a Raven roosting on his grassy roof. 

"Find this terribly funny do you?" He asked, his chest puffing out as the bird continued to laugh at him. 

"I'm sure you do, you probably think I'm a dwarf with no beard! But I assure you, you overgrown blackbird, that I am not a hobbit to be laughed at! Now get off of my roof!"

He stomped his way inside, slamming the door and not bothering to look behind him to check if the rude, oversized chicken had actually left. Pesky birds. What was it even doing this far West? Bilbo threw his hands in the air as if to shake himself from this mood he had quite quickly sunken into. He had a meeting to attend with The Lodge after all.

The Lodge was a tight-knit group of individuals who all harnessed chaos into magic. It depended on the race of person; Elves tended to be proficient in foresight and healing, Humans in evocation, Dwarf sorcerers were rare but had extremely strong magic tie them to the earth, Hobbits .. well Hobbits seemed to somewhat take after Elves, it wasn’t like he had another Hobbit to ask. Bilbo was good at helping things grow, healing people of diseases and accelerating their recovery. He wasn’t a terribly strong sorcerer but one that was sought after nonetheless. The Elves had taught him control and how to speak Sindarin, the ancient language of their people that was woven into chaos itself.

Bilbo’s back room was dark, it's only window covered by thick fabric curtains and chalk covered nearly every surface with odd markings, sigils and several different languages. A palantir was placed upon a tall table in the centre of the room, and as Bilbo approached the seeing-stone it was pulsating with a glowing pale blue aura. 

He sighed and leant forward towards the relic, taking a moment to exhale and breathing what seemed to be a cloud of pale green over the stone. It glowed brightly under his fingertips as he raised a hand to it, and a voice rang out. 

“Oh! It appears Master Baggins is here, after all. Well with more than two of us, this Lodge meeting can begin. _ Elen sila lumenn omentilmo _ .”

“Apologies for the delay” He answered “We’ve been having a bit of trouble and I’ve been kept awfully busy.”

“No apologies needed my dearest Bilbo, we were not waiting long were we Tauriel? I do wish you could have come to Rivendell for winter Bilbo,  _ nae saian luume’ _ . I’ve found some scrolls in my father’s study, I think you’d love them! Oh Elladan also asks if you could bring honey cakes with you for your next visit and Elrohir said you  _ must _ tell him the story of old Bullroarer Took! He didn’t believe me when I told him! And-”

“Arwen, please. This is a Lodge meeting. Do I need to remind you every time we speak over the stones?”

“Apologies Tauriel, I forget myself. It has been nearly two years since I have seen either of you. I am merely excited to hear you are well.”

Bilbo grinned as he could hear his friend’s voices. Arwen was most definitely the dreamer of the two. He couldn’t imagine Tauriel anything but the straight-laced sorceress she was, although they had once used the Palantir’s to drink several bottles of wine and gossip about King Thranduil. The less anyone knew about that the better. 

“Where are Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel? Lady Eowen?” Bilbo asked, it wasn’t like any of them to miss a meeting.

“The White Council has been called Bilbo. As for Eowen, I sent a message to Rohan via Ranger but not a word has been heard. We had hoped she would attend this afternoon.” Tauriel replied. Bilbo frowned, he could hear the worry in her voice; which in turn set of the worry in his own.

“The White Council? They haven’t been called upon in-”

“One hundred years. Before your time my dear friend. Father left early this morning, he looked .., pensive. The days are growing shorter, even here.”

Silence fell over the Palantir for a beat before it glowed again with Tauriel’s presence. “How goes the Shire Bilbo? We must admit that strange happenings are rife in the Woodland Realm, beasts are coming closer to our borders and the scouts have found remains of camps but no travellers. Chaos is becoming volatile and people are beginning to worry.”

Bilbo felt his heart hammer in his ears. “It’s happening near you too? I thought it was just me…” He could feel it in the trees of the Shire, their roots run deep into the earth. He could feel death. It had been ruining crops for months, but now it had begun to take livestock and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Crops are dying and it’s started to kill the livestock … but that isn’t what concerns me. There have been stories of a great beast attacking animals, three Hobbits near Frogmorton were found strewn out in the road and now someone has told me two Witchers have arrived in Hobbiton, so honestly? I am not feeling in control. These people are going to ask me to fight this beast I know it, but I am not a master in ancient magics like you, nor do I have great control over elements like Eowyn. I- I am just a hobbit, and I do not know what to do.”

Bilbo knew he was in over his head, his bending of chaos had not an offensive touch, but a healing one and he did not know what use he would be to help rid the Shire of a werewolf. He heard Arwen sigh and felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as her voice filled his senses and lulled him into a sense of comfort. 

“ _ Cormlle naa tanya tel’raa _ , my friend. We are here to help. First, tell me about these Witchers.”

…

Thorin was right about the Shire, it was a horrendous maze of hedgerows, winding lanes and people who had quite clearly never seen a dwarf in their lives. Dwalin was, as usual, taking it in his stride - even scaring off a few of the locals by shouting at them in Khuzdul and laughing afterwards as they ran from them. Thorin resisted the urge to roll his eyes lest they fell out of his head. 

Thorin had sent out Roäc out that morning and the fiendish animal had not returned. Dwalin had pointed out that the bird had probably found a few sparrows to bully and was having the time of his life, but Thorin had hoped that he had found what he was sent to look for. Magic. 

Thorin had heard tales of a halfling sorceress who had taken up residence in Hobbiton, from inns surrounding the Shire all the way to Ered Luin where his sister ruled, the dwarves of the Blue Mountains taking note of the chaos wielders around them. If it was a werewolf terrorising the Shire, a sorceress would be useful to their fight. Plus they tended to be sympathetic towards his lot in life, usually a polar opposite to the people who hire him. 

Thorin felt a heavy hand push his shoulder, although he felt its presence before it touched him - he allowed Dwalin to give him a playful shove. “C’mon now, we only got lost twice! Let’s find Roäc and get some warm food in our stomachs. I bet the sorceress is already cooking us a feast!” 

Thorin couldn’t help but feel his mouth water slightly, it had been at least a week since his first proper meal, and proper bath. He was desperate to scrub the filth of the road from his skin and re-braid his hair.

Hobbiton was, in all honesty, exactly how he had imagined it. He had only travelled through the needlehole once, and only south enough to reach Rushock Bog to take care of a Drowner contract from a merchant in Ered Luin, but the journey was harsh and the bog cold last winter. Hobbiton was inundated with shire folk when the two dwarves arrived at peak time on market day. Thorin looked around as he wandered through the stalls, trying not to take notice when he saw halflings jump out of his way, turn away when he took an interest in a stall or even flinch back and whisper as they saw the two swords fastened to his back. Despite every town he entered doing this for almost a hundred years he still felt his shoulders slump and his head bow slightly to shield people from his eyes. 

Dwalin took the Market in his Stride, picking things up without permission, dropping them on occasion if he saw someone whispering behind their backs.

“You know they will never like us if you keep dropping their gourds.” Thorin commented as they passed a small inn called ‘ The Green Dragon’.

“Good thing I don’t give a fuck if they like us or not then isn’t it? You’d think someone would be grateful that we kill monsters, but apparently not in this age.”

The two fell silent again as they marched through the small town, Thorin almost walking right into Dwalin’s back as the other stopped in his tracks in front of him. “What? What is it?” Thorin reached a hand up for the hilt of his sword, but it never quite made it to its goal. Thorin followed Dwalin’s eyes up in the sky and found Roäc circling above what seemed to be a house of some kind, squawking loudly to the distress of some elderly hobbits trying to smoke their pipes in peace a few doors down the lane.

Thorin and Dwalin moved immediately and in unison, using the last of their energy to move with haste to the large, green front door of the suspected sorceress. Thorin was in the lead, before Dwalin used a burst of speed to knock Thorin aside and send him tumbling into an unsuspecting flower bed.

Before his companion could get up out of the mess of soil and broken pottery, Dwalin raised a heavy hand to knock on the door three times. 

And another three times

And another-

“No, thank you! We don’t want any more visitors, customers, or distant relations!” Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the disembodied voice, turning to look at Thorin; who was currently attempting to crawl his way out of the abundance of broken flower pots, and point a large tattooed hand at the door. 

“Are you sure we have the right house?”

Both dwarves then turned to the door as the voice returned. “No actually, you are at the wrong house! I have a sign up that is very clear, but apparently none of you can read; or maybe you can but choose to ignore my very polite request. Which is, may I add, even worse than the first option. So let me ask you!”

The large green door swung inward, and stood in front of the two Witchers was a Hobbit, green eyes glowing in a rather intimidating manner, which even had Dwalin retreating a few steps.

“Who exactly do you think you are?” He glowered, the rage in his voice startling Dwalin for a second, before turning to Thorin who had just about scrambled to his feet and giving his friend a shrug. 

“Don’t you shrug at me! Why on earth are there two dwarves on my doorst- …”

Dwalin watched as the Hobbit’s eyes found Thorin, covered in soil and surrounded by broken plant pots and watched as they formed into slits. Dwalin also watched as Thorin shrunk under that gaze. 

Thorin Oakenshield, was scared by this oversized squirrel.

Dwalin stepped forward, fully intending on pushing this person aside when the Hobbit’s gaze flicked to him and Dwalin ... couldn’t move. The dwarf looked down to find large green vines had broken through the stones of this path and had immobilised him from the waist down - so quickly he couldn’t see it coming.

He watched as the halfling moved his gaze back to Thorin, opening his mouth to no doubt continue the lecture when Roäc decided to fly down from his perch on the Hobbit’s roof. He saw the smaller creature shut his mouth, eyes wide at the bird before looking once again at Dwalin and then Thorin, he also saw the way his gaze lingered a little longer on his friend. 

Thorin wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but he was sure that Roäc, who was now perched on his shoulder had just saved him from the wrath of the Shire folk.

“Master Hobbit, we have travelled far on business and find ourselves in search for a warm bed to sleep in and maybe some meager foods. My name is Thorin Oakenshield, and my companion is Dwalin, son of Fundin. We are at your service.”

Thorin bowed, before smacking Dwalin on the shoulder and waiting for his friend to bow - as well as he could considering his lower half was rigid with vines. As he stood tall once more he saw the Hobbit’s raised eyebrow and for a few seconds the three stood in silence before Bilbo sighed and clicked his fingers, sending the vines back down into the ground; leaving only dirt and gravel in their place. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Well I suppose you had better come in before evening comes, there is a Werewolf around after all.”

Bilbo turned on his heel and walked back into his house, leaving two bewildered dwarves on the doorstep. Thorin was the first to enter, flashing Dwalin a small smirk before entering the warm and inviting house. Dwalin scowled, leaning down to rub his leg where the vines constricted him before seeing Roäc stood at his feet. The raven leaned up and bit Dwalin’s shin before laughing and jumping into the house and down the hallway.

“Even the damn bird is a traitor” 

Dwalin, son of Fundin entered Bag end at exactly four o’clock in the afternoon and found himself having a normal dinner with his eccentric but seemingly normal host who had a collection of smoked meats to rival Ered Luin. 

What Dwalin, son of Fundin did not expect was what came afterwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cormlle naa tanya tel’raa - you're heart is that of a lion  
nae saian luume’ - it has been too long  
Elen sila lumenn omentilmo - a star shall shine on the hour of our meeting 
> 
> translations from https://www.scribd.com/doc/5758795/JRR-Tolkien-Elven-Phrases  
im going to try and get more acquainted with Khuzdul but work is kicking my ass at the moment.


End file.
